


Keep it together

by Nejinee



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arguing, Exes, Fluff, Frottage, Humor, M/M, Protective Sam Wilson, Sexual Tension, wuv
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 07:05:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7705165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nejinee/pseuds/Nejinee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Is this the Bucky who stomped all over your precious star-spangled heart and left it for dead by the side of the highway?”</p><p>What do you do when your (clearly traitorous) friend invites your ex to dinner? You fake it, that's what. You pretend to totally have your shit together. You pretend to not stare, to not notice how your ex hasn't gotten decrepit and gross with age. No, you instead focus on how mature and cool you are now without them. You also realize you haven't gotten over them, not even a little and that seeing Bucky Barnes again is probably the sickest joke the universe has ever played on you. Your life, Steve Rogers, is a shitshow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Keep it together

**Author's Note:**

> A little something I felt I had to write in the dead of night when I should have been sleeping. Sleep is for the weak, anyway. ;-)

This wasn’t happening. Not only was this explicably _not_ happening, but it really, totally, unfairly _was happening_.

Steve groaned loudly and covered his face with both hands, wishing the earth would just burst into flames and burn his body and soul to ashes.

“Why’d you bring him here?” Sam was snapping, jostling the seat beside Steve.

“I didn’t realize my work friends were off-limits for hanging out with us, Sam,” Nat replied coldly, and from behind his fingers, Steve could feel the frost drifting glacially off her.

And tonight was supposed to be _such_ a fun night. They’d even managed to get a great central table at _El Gato_ , only the most beautiful outdoor tapas bar/restaurant in the entertainment district. Steve had been dying to go for _weeks._ He’d heard so much about the food, the ambiance, the _garlands,_ the _lights,_ the _beams_ , the _moonligh_ t, it had almost driven Sam and Nat to madness. And so here they were, sitting at a beautifully lit table with fairy lights twinkling above them, vines wrapping around the massive structural beams that do nothing more than frame the beautiful night sky above. It was so Goddamn beautiful Steve wanted to cry.

 

Except now he wanted to cry for a wholly different reason.

“So you work with the guy? Come on! You shoulda thought that one through!” Sam was sniping angrily, but politely, as he flattened a beautifully pristine napkin over his lap.

“If you get us kicked out of here, I will never speak to either of you again,” Steve said, sitting up.

“I _thought_ ,” Nat said, gripping the table edge tightly, “that they were _adults_. Fully autonomous adults, with the capacity to act like it sometimes.”

Sam huffed and sat back in his probably hand-crafted seat and stared at Steve.

“So which one is it?” he asked, like the truly good friend he was.“This guy? He the one who proposed marriage on the third date?”

“Ugh, no,” Steve groaned and let his head drop onto his forearm.

“Uh, he’s not the one who–“ Sam sounded so careful it kinda made Steve want to laugh himself crazy.

“Yes!” Steve moaned into his skin.

“No…” Sam breathed. “So the guy who–“

“Yes.”

“–The one that?—”

“Yes!”

“And you just–“

“Oh my God, Yes, Sam! It’s Bucky! God damnit!” Steve jolted upright.

Okay, so now everyone was looking over. 

“Yes, okay?” Steve hunkered down, trying to make his six foot frame appear smaller. “That one.”

Sam glared over at Nat. “You did this.”

“I did nothing wrong,” she snapped back, a butter knife gripped in his right hand.

“Hello! My name is _Jessica_ and I’ll be helping you out tonight!” A bubbly voice cut between them. Menus appeared. “Can I start you off with some drinks?” She had that way of speaking, the uptalk, all bubbly and questioning and so, so out of place in Steve’s mindspace.

“Double whiskey, neat,” Nat grunted, eyes not leaving Sam.

“MDG,” Sam said coolly, also not looking away.

“Uh,” Steve looked up and saw the wide eyes of their young waitress flicking between his two pissy best friends. “I’ll have the same. Thanks.”

Jessica was gone in a flash.

“Guys, come on, no fighting,” he sighed.

“How could you?” Sam hissed, leaning closer to Nat. “I thought you were our friend? Steve’s friend!”

“I _am,_ you jackass,” Nat snapped, eyes flashing. “I didn’t know this Bucky was _that Bucky.”_

_“Oh my God,”_ Sam sat back in his seat. “How many Buckys you think exist on this planet? You think it was number seven of twenty?”

“Guys!” Steve bit out. “Stop it. People are staring.”

And so they were. There was absolutely no way Nat and Sam were gonna get them kicked out of _another_ restaurant for bad behaviour. Not this time. Not at _Patrie._

“This isn’t as bad as you’re making it out to be,” Nat murmured.

“Oh really?” Sam’s brow crooked sardonically before he turned to Steve. “Steve, is this the Bucky from back when you were in University?”

“Yes,” Steve answered morosely.

“Right, and is this the Bucky who stomped all over your precious star-spangled heart and left it for dead by the side of the highway?”

“Well, that’s a bit-“

“And is this the same guy, the same _Bucky_ ,” God, Sam sounded angrier by the second. “Who you’ve been stuck on like flypaper because for some _Goddamn reason_ , even though he hurt you and you know he ain’t worth shit, you _still_ have weird pining moments about him that stop you furthering any kind of long-term commitment to any other people you’ve dated?”

Steve’s eyes were wide and puppy-like. Sure, Sam was being dramatic, as he was wont to do, but…

“Yes,” Steve answered.

Sam glared over at Nat, like she was the physical embodiment of pestilence itself. “You see? He’s broken.”

Natasha rolled her eyes and sat back. “Steve,” she said calmly. “This Bucky, he the same guy who was your best friend for like almost all of undergrad?”

“Yes,” Steve said slowly.

She smirked. “You saw him. He changed much?”

Steve wavered. “I guess.”

“So no matter how much time has passed, when you saw him, when we walked in, did you or did you not immediately want to drag him outside, find a dirty, dank alleyway and bone his brains out?”

“Romanov!” Sam blasted. “The hell is wrong with you?!”

Steve groaned loudly and dragged his hands down over his face like a man working himself off a high. “Yeeeeessssssssss. _God_ , Yes.”

Natasha looked so smug.

Sam’s jaw dropped.

“Steven Rogers! No! Bad! You do not wanna go down that road. The hell, man?”

_Do I look like I ever have any self-control, ever?_ Steve wanted to say.

_“Shh_ , he’s coming back,” Nat said softly, eyes throwing daggers.

Fuck Steve’s LifeTM, but there _he_ was again, like something out of a very messed up wet dream.

Bucky Goddamn Barnes.

He was older, somehow a little bigger, and his hair was long. Steve had never thought of Bucky as the sort who’d have hair long enough to pull back into a messy knot at the back of his head, but there it was.

Bucky sat down beside Nat, clearly looking as uncomfortable as Steve felt.

Everyone was quiet. Steve didn’t know where to look, so he just kind of stared at Nat.

“So,” Bucky’s voice was gruff, rusty at the edges, just the way Steve remembered. “I’d bet my left arm you guys were talking about me.”

“You betcha,” Sam groused, leaning back, one arm on the table, the other hanging off the seat back. That was his proprietary ‘I hate you’ pose. Steve was familiar with it. Sam was super loyal, super protective. But also, he was _Sam_.

Bucky eyed him.

Steve took that moment to look him over.

It was hot out, so no one was up for jackets and sweatshirts. Likewise, Bucky was in a plain black long-sleeved t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It was pretty thin though, which Steve tried desperately to _not notice at all_. Were those more tattoos under there? Could he barely make out new shapes arcing over Bucky’s shoulder?

Bucky looked at him then and Steve was glad the waitress appeared.

She laid down their drinks and took Bucky’s order. 

“Food, anyone?” she hesitated, as clearly none of them had picked up the menus.

“Oh, yes!” Steve grabbed at one, to look busy. He opened the big leather-bound menu, clearly hiding behind it like a child.

Natasha murmured something in Russian, but Steve didn’t care.

He looked the menu over, already knowing what he wanted to order. He’d heard _so much_ about the risotto, like hell if he wasn’t going to pay the sixty dollar price tag.

Also, this beer was great. He swigged at it, after his arm had snaked out to grab it from behind his protective wall of leather.

“Whoa, slow down,” Sam muttered when Steve gulped back fresh air after almost emptying the entire bottle.

“I’m ready to order,” Steve said after a few minutes, slapping the menu shut.

“Okay, hotshot, let the rest of us figure this thing out,” Sam replied.

Bucky caught Steve’s gaze and _the bastard_ smirked.

Steve was _not_ going to blush. No, he was going to weather this awkward, stupid storm and come out the victor.

So while the others picked out their items, and Jessica the waitress scribbled them down, Steve stole glances at Bucky.

He was _so_ stupidly handsome. Nothing new, but _damn_. Somehow Steve’s daydreams of Bucky getting old and crusty and pasty and weak hadn’t panned out at all. Revenge dreams were so stupid. How many times had Steve dreamt of bumping into Bucky again, Steve with a new beau (probably a celebrity), a dazzling career and a cute german shepherd, and Bucky with nothing but an encroaching bald spot and nothing else to show for his life.

No, no, nothing of the sort was obviously ever going to happen. Not only was Steve still floundering to get paid a decent wage at his current job and living in a probably health-hazard apartment block, but Bucky Barnes only seemed to have gotten more better looking, more buff, and more tan in the intervening years.

His eyes were still that steely blue that Steve had once loved to draw. Bucky had been his muse for so long, it was heartbreaking to move on from using him in all his art.

His lips were still soft-looking and his jaw sharp, his cheeks missing that slight roundness he’d had in university.

Someone kicked his ankle _hard._

“Ow,” Steve hissed, glaring at the side of Sam’s face.

“Stop it,” Sam whispered from behind his hand.

“You stop it,” Steve hissed back, kicking Sam.

“Boys,” Nat cut in.

“I can leave,” Bucky said softly, looking at Steve. “Uh, this wasn’t, um–“

“Please do,” Sam interjected. Oh Jesus.

Steve’s mother had done a bang-up job teaching her son to never be rude or intolerant or unkind, even when, maybe, it was appropriate. Just hearing Sam’s words made Steve’s insides wring themselves dry.

“No!” Steve blurted. “No, it’s okay, really. You can stay.” He nudged Sam’s side. “He’s just, um, uh, Sam.”

“You’re just being polite,” Bucky murmured, looking at Nat for confirmation, like he didn’t damn well know everything about Steve. Like they hadn’t spent years rooming together, studying, partying, making out together for _years_.

“Unless you want to go…” Steve conceded. Far be it for him to pin Bucky to an awkward evening with an ex.

“Leave this place?” Bucky looked around. “You kiddin’ me? I didn’t believe Natasha when she said she had a booking. Been wanting to come here since forever.”

”Which is why I invited you,” here she glared at Sam pointedly.

Bucky was looking at Steve again. Steve glanced away.

_Stop falling for it, Rogers_ , he berated himself. He couldn’t fall for those eyes, that voice. He should know better by now.

“I thought you moved across the country or some shit,” Sam butted in like a bull in a china shop.

Bucky blinked. “Uh, yeah, I did. Moved back about six months ago. Hometown blues, y’know?”

Six _months_. Steve felt his betrayal festering. No. No, Bucky was a free man. He didn’t have to keep Steve up to date on his whereabouts, not any more.

But SIX MONTHS?

“Huh,” Sam responded for him. “Why’d you even come back. Thought the West coast was better?”

Steve took a final pull on his beer before waving at the waitress for another. Hell, he wasn’t going to make it through this.

“Better?” Bucky shrugged. “not really. Just different, is all.”

“What do you even do?” Sam said. Man, why was he even trying to make conversation? Like Bucky couldn’t tell this was basically a shake-down.

“Russian Lit, with me,” Nat answered for him.

The waitress appeared again with some appetizers and Steve’s new beer. Steve tried not to eye the way Bucky was super charming with her while he ordered his own drink. He smiled that gorgeous smile and Jessica, sweet Jessica, the _fool_ , was falling for it. Steve wanted to shake her and tell her how he was no good; A heartbreaker with the best of ‘em. He also kind of wanted her to leave because she was petite, and smart, and blonde. Definitely Bucky’s type.

And that was kind of it, really, a reminder that this is one of the things that brought him and Bucky together.

What were the odds that both of them would wind up as roomies in freshman year and would work out the fact they both turned out to be bi? Best and worst thing to have ever happened.

Steve at the time, had been struggling with his inability to date _anyone_ , while Bucky practically had girls throwing themselves at his mercy. It had been a fun ride, the two of them going out to bars and clubs. 

Steve had ended up having more attention from guys. It might have been his size, back then (nowadays it was _definitely_ about his size). This was before he’d started working out and eating right. This was before Bucky’d realized he kinda liked guys too. This was before they’d started sleeping together.

“How’s that receptionist doing, by the way?” Nat asked Sam once Jessica was gone. Steve appreciated her valiant attempt at civility.

“She’s fine,” Sam said. He eyed Bucky again and this time Bucky frowned. “You date?”

Bucky cleared his throat, eyes skating past Steve. “Uh, not right now.”

God in heaven, Steve felt his heart rate pick up. Like a salivating dog, he honestly felt like this was an _opportunity_ and not a death-spiral.

Sam kicked him again.

“Would you _stop?_ ” Steve snapped.

“What’s he doing?” Nat asked.

“He’s kicking me,” Steve sniped.

Nat looked at Sam with a cocked brow. “Why are you kicking him?”

And because Sam, sometimes, has no filter when he’s pissy, he just lets rip. “Because this _idiot,_ ” he jabbed his thumb in Steve’s direction. “is making goo-goo eyes at the guy who _clearly_ doesn’t deserve even a second of his Goddamn attention.” Sam swivelled around to eye Bucky.

Bucky seemed a little impressed. “I’m not actually doing anything, so you can calm down,” he said, voice all rumbly.

“Not doin’ anything?” Sam cried out, making other patrons look over. “Man, you don’t have to. You just sit there with your laid-back, bad-boy attitude, like you have no care in the world. He’s about ready to jump you anyway. It’s a crying shame.”

“Sam!” Steve felt his face turn red. “what is wrong with you?”

 

“I’m talking to the guy, the guy who had the audacity to mess with you, man!” Sam turned to Bucky and pulled Steve in with an arm round his neck. “This boy? He’s good. He’s great. You messed up. You hurt him. So I don’t like you.”

“Sam,” Steve huffed, feeling a little constricted. He pulled at Sam’s elbow. Sam released him, not once looking away from Bucky.

 

“Okay,” Bucky said softly. “Message received.”

No! Not the sad eyes! Steve wanted to reach over and take that face between his hands and cradle it. Cradle it and kiss it and press his nose to those cheeks…

“Steve!” Sam snapped. “You’re doing it again!”

“Shut up,” Nat hissed. They really were drawing a lot of attention to themselves. “I waited too long to get to eat here, don’t fuck it up.”

Yes. Right.

 

Steve swigged at his beer, feeling completely disoriented.

 

He ordered another.

 

Their food arrived and everyone pretty much dug in.

Steve tried his best to not moan in full appreciation.

“Oh. My. _God_ ,” he breathed. “this is the best thing that has ever been cooked in the history of mankind.” He hummed and closed his eyes as they flavours washed over his tongue.

“You wanna be left alone?” Nat said sarcastically. Steve’s eyes were still closed so he just shook his head and hummed some more.

Another spoonful. 

“Jesus, Rogers, tone it down,” Sam murmured. 

“Can’t help it,” Steve opened his eyes. “It’s delicious, guys.”

Bucky was staring at him, mouth slightly open. Steve knew that look. How could he ever forget it? Bucky’s lips shifted into something like a smile before looking back down at his own meal.

Okay, so this wasn’t what he’d hoped for in visiting this restaurant, but it would do.

His next beer arrived and Steve hungrily drank it back like a man dying of thirst.

We wiped at his lips with the back of his hand and caught Bucky staring _again._

His head was feeling a bit fluffy now. Alcohol was great.

The four of them nattered a bit over their meals, though it was stilted and awkward. Steve valiantly soldiered on, because nothing, _nothing_ was going get between him and his dessert of creme brûlée. 

“So you’re a trainer?” Bucky was saying. “Like, professional?”

“Yup,” Sam said, scooping his chocolate ice-cream out. “Someone’s gotta teach this doofus how to work the machines before he hurts himself.”

Bucky looked over. “So you work out, huh?”

And God, there was that sneaky smile of his, because _obviously_ Steve has been working out.

“Every other day for the past seven years,” Steve said, licking his spoon. That’s right. _Seven years, asshole. That’s how long it’s been_.

 

“What gym?” Bucky asked.

“Gold’s down on McNamara,” Sam said.

Bucky nodded. “The boxing gym?”

“That’s the one.”

“Huh,” Bucky’s eyes trailed over Steve, taking in his arms. Steve really tried to not flex or anything so ridiculous, but it was a struggle. He’d worked hard for this physique.

“Nicely done,” Bucky murmurs, licking at his own spoon, eyes not leaving Steve’s.

Steve felt a warmth bubble up inside his tummy. 

“No,” Sam cut in, pointing his spoon at Bucky. “You damn well stop that right now.”

Bucky blinked and looked at Sam Wilson like he was so innocent, so naive.

“You blink those baby blues at him once more, I’ll have no choice but to put you down.”

“I’m just blinking,” Bucky said, but his cheeky smirk slipped through.

“No, you’re flirting. It’s disgusting.”

Flirting. Now there’s something.

Steve caught Bucky’s eye again and they both grinned.

 

Nat talked some more about her pistachio pudding and Sam said some other stuff about caramel clusters, but Steve wasn’t listening. 

He felt all hot and bothered and nothing was going to make it go away. It took seven years to work Bucky out of his system, to stop expecting him to come over, to stop missing his sloppy joes on Sundays. It took so much time and effort to scrub Steve Rogers clean of everything Bucky Barnes, because Bucky was _gone_.

 

“I’m gonna go have a smoke,” Bucky said abruptly, standing.

“Me too,” Steve said, his chair juddering back as he too stood.

“You don’t even _smoke_ ,” Sam cried out as Steve made to follow Bucky. “Rogers!”

Steve ignored him.

He followed Bucky, followed that wide back, those lean legs in those dark jeans. He eyed that ass, wondering how much of Bucky had changed over the years, how much he couldn’t see.

 

“So you still smoke, huh?” Steve said once they were free of the enclosed space, back out on the street.

Bucky walked ahead, head down as he lit up. He turned to lean against the brick wall. It was quiet down here, less bustle.

“Actually, I’d kinda quit there for a while,” Bucky murmured, tendrils of hair falling around his face.

“Oh?” Steve said, coming to stand a little closer, making room on the sidewalk. He pushed his fingers into his jean pockets, unsure of how to stand. Bucky’s eyes roamed over him slowly. Steve wasn’t the only one taking in the changes.

 

Bucky exhaled, driving his smoke aside so as not to bother Steve, like he used to.

“Bought a pack on the way over,” he said, voice all rust and charm.

Steve raised a brow.

“Natasha might have mentioned you’d be here,” Bucky admitted, looking down. He pressed back against the wall, one foot coming up to rest on the bricks.

Steve felt a smirk work its way across his lips.

“Nervous, Barnes?” he murmured.

Bucky huffed and looked up. “No,” he snarked.

“Maybe a little?” Steve added on.

“You’re a bigshot now, huh?” Bucky said instead.

Steve shrugged. “Not really.”

“Natasha says you’re living down in the annex. Got your own place and all.”

So Bucky had been asking about him? How long had he known Nat was Steve’s friend?

“Well, we all gotta move on at some point,” Steve said. He hated himself only a teeny tiny bit for throwing those words at Bucky.

It seemed to have the intended effect though. Bucky winced. 

Steve chewed on his lip, frustration bubbling up. “So, six months, huh?”

“Yup,” Bucky nodded, like it was no big thing.

“You weren’t gonna call or anything, huh?” Steve said. He really hated how bitter he sounded.

“Didn’t think you’d want me to,” Bucky said, breathing out smoke.

Steve let out an aggravated huff. “Like it’s ever been up to me.”

“Isn’t it always about you?” Bucky retorted, and oh _hell no_ , he did not go there.

“Really?” Steve glared at him. “You’re gonna pin this on me? Like it’s my fault?”

“You’re the one who started it,” Bucky answered sharply, his brows furrowing.

“No, you’re the one who left, _Bucky_ ,” Steve’s voice was tough as granite. He pulled his shoulders up tight, tense. Were they really doing this now? After all this time?

“You’re the one who didn’t want me to stay.”

Steve looked up, eyes sharp, angry. “What? Oh no, you don’t get to play that card.”

“Me?” Bucky stepped forward, flicking his smoke away. “How about we talk about the fact you didn’t want me anymore? Or how I wasn’t lining up with your life? What about me staying in the city to work here, huh? You told me to go, Steve.”

Steve blinked back at him, all those memories, all those arguments rushing back into his mind.

“That’s not what happened and you know it!”

“Really? Because I’m pretty sure the last time I saw you was when you slammed the door in my face.”

And yes, okay, Steve _had_ slammed his apartment door in Bucky’s face like some kind of drama queen, but that was because Bucky was _leaving him._ Bucky was packed up, all his earthly belongings jammed into his ma’s old Mitsubishi.

How could all those arguments, all those rehashings of said arguments in Steve’s head, how could they sound so stupid coming from Bucky? Steve had spent _years_ agonizing over what he should have said and done and what might have made him and Bucky work it all out, but he’d come up blank on all fronts. Because he and Bucky were a Goddamn mess. At least, that’s what he’d told himself. That’s what he’d told Sam. That’s what he believed, all this time.

If anyone stood still long enough, Steve would regale them with the woeful tale of Bucky Barnes and his stupid ego and his dumb face and his fucking self-sacrificing complex that benefitted absolutely no-one.

Sam had asked Steve once, a few years back, if Steve was still in love with Bucky. And Steve had been disgusted, _horrified_ , aghast at such a betrayal. _Of course he was still fucking in love with Bucky Barnes!_ But he wasn’t going to admit it! He wasn’t a masochist! He wasn’t going to say it out loud!

Because admitting he still loved Bucky meant admitting that he’d let him go. It meant accepting the fact he’d literally pushed his best friend away under the pretence of it ‘all falling apart’ and them being ‘incompatible’.

Shit. Was this really just as simple as it suddenly sounded? 

 

“I didn’t want you to leave,” Steve whispered, looking at his scuffed hi-tops. “But you did anyway.” He sighed and lifted his gaze again.

 

Bucky smiled sourly and looked away. “Fuck,” he whispered to the night air. “I shouldn’t have come.”

Steve faltered. Bucky turned to look at him as he slipped his hands into his pockets.

“Right,” Steve nodded. Of course. Bucky didn’t want to see him any more than Steve wanted to see _him_.

“And I told Natasha why,” Bucky continued. “But she never listens.”

“Why?” Steve asked carefully, looking up from under his lashes, like a sad fool.

Bucky licked his lips, eyes drifting over Steve’s face. 

“Because, you fucking moron,” Bucky’s eyes were so pale, even under the terrible streetlights. “ _Because_.”

Steve waited. “We’re not very good at explaining ourselves, are we?” he murmured after a beat.

Bucky scrubbed at the minimal stubble dotting his jaw.

“I told her it’s because if I saw you, and you were happy, it would be the worst thing ever.”

 

Steve blinked, trying to figure that out. “You wanted me to be unhappy?”

“No,” Bucky laughed, “No, I just … “

He looked at Steve and swallowed. _I didn’t want to see you happy without me._

 

Steve’s heart rate picked up and he rubbed his palms against the ass of his jeans, trying to dispel the sweaty feeling. “You’re such an idiot,” Steve breathed out, throat dry. “You’re such a _fucking_ idiot.”

Bucky cocked a brow. “So you swear now?”

“Fuck you, Barnes,” Steve growled, stepping closer.

Bucky seemed startled at his proximity, even taking a step back of his own. His breath was smoky and easy between them, but Bucky wasn’t afraid. He just glared at Steve, probably unused to the height difference now. Steve was almost exactly as tall as him these days.

“This is a bad idea, Rogers,” he growled, like anger made up for what this was passing between them.

“I’ve had worse,” Steve finished, closing the gap between them. He slammed Bucky back against the wall, making the other man grunt, before lining up and kissing him.

Bucky all but moaned into his mouth, hands dragging up to bury fingers in Steve’s hair.

Bucky tasted like cigarettes and sugar and it was blissful.

“Such an asshole,” Bucky breathed hungrily between them, biting at Steve’s lower lip.

“Unh,” Steve just pressed in closer, his hands gripping Bucky’s ribs.

“Mmm,” Bucky mumbled, releasing that wicked tongue of his into Steve’s mouth. 

It was a little rougher than Steve recalled, but nothing short of heavenly. Bucky grunted when Steve pushed his half-hard erection into Bucky’s hip and began a slow roll of his hips.

“Bad idea,” Bucky growled, not stopping in the least.

“So bad,” Steve agreed, his tongue rimming Bucky’s lips, tasting.

A buzzing sound interrupted them.

Bucky pulled at his phone, which was lodged in his back pocket somehow. It was a busted, taped up thing.

“Shit, Nat’s asking where we went.”

“Tell her we’re gonna–“

“I am _not_ telling my colleague that, Steve.”

“Fine,” Steve yanked out his own phone and immediately tapped out a message. “There,” He showed the small screen to Bucky, who just raised both brows.

“Oh, really?” he said.

“Yes, really,” Steve growled, leaning in to nip at Bucky’s jaw, then his ear.

And God, if that still wasn’t a weak spot for Bucky, because his legs buckled a little and he dug fingers into Steve’s arms.

“Okay, okay, _Jesus_.”

“My name’s Steve, but okay.”

Bucky laughed then, that throaty chuckle he kept for moments when Steve was being particularly sassy. 

“You said alleyway, right?” Bucky rumbled, eyelids heavy.

“Yeah,” Steve curled his arms around Bucky, like in his dreams.

“So romantic, Rogers.”

“I do my best.”

 

–––

 

“Are you _kidding me?_ ” Sam all but squawked when they sat back down. “Am I supposed to think this is _subtle_? Twenty minutes! Do I look stupid to you?”

“Wilson, you’re yelling,” Natasha murmured as she tapped her credit card against the machine in the waitress’ hand.

Steve slammed down into his seat, not caring how wide his grin appeared across his flushed face. He straightened his shirt, fully aware the neckline was a little stretched, as if someone had been nipping at his collarbones and breathing heavily into the cotton.

“ _Dude_ ,” Sam glared at him, then at Bucky, whose hair was _completely_ fucked up, and whose lips looked particularly pink and swollen and well, wet. “Oh, _come on_!”

Natasha eyed Steve, a smirk tugging at her lips. “You got a little…” she tapped at her chin.

Steve rubbed a palm across his own chin, feeling the beard burn warm against his skin. 

He grinned so wide, Sam threw his hands in the air.

“Why do I even try!” he yelled to the heavens. 

Bucky pressed his ankle against Steve’s leg and they both smiled. 

“So this restaurant _is great_ ,” Steve said, twining his fingers together. “Four stars.”

“At _least_ ,” Bucky added on, licking his lips.

“We are never coming here again,” Natasha sighed.

“Not with these idiots,” Sam grumbled.

“No, I mean, we’re getting kicked out.” Natasha scooted back and stood, dusting off her pristine jeans. “Security’s here, boys.”

“Aw, man!” Sam whined.

And as they were escorted from the restaurant, eyes staring as they went, Steve couldn’t help smiling when Bucky shyly, awkwardly grabbed at Steve’s hand.

_Worth it._

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :-)


End file.
